One Eye Open, One Eye Shut
by Streloc
Summary: Things were different. Things would always be different. Because he was different. It was always about him and his horrible petulance. He should feel ashamed to be in the care of such good people. He should know that they'll care for him, even with the way he was. With his... weakness. Because he was blind. Harry Potter was blind. Or as they called him, Boy.
1. Blind leading the Blind

"Boy, go weed the garden."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

I got up and carefully felt my way outside. I used to have a special stick for that sort of thing, but Uncle Vernon had 'relieved' me of it. Aunt Petunia got it for me when I was younger. Apparently, it helped prevent accidents and things of those nature. I wouldn't know. I can hardly remember. And if I can remember, what would I remember? Sounds?

You never hear blind people talk about past experiences or memories they've had, and that is why. It's all a constant blur. What might be an everyday thing to you could mean the world to another person. For example, wasteful people that eat half of something, say a sandwich, before tossing it in the rubbish bin. If you were in Africa, you wouldn't do that.

So here I was, using my hands and arms to just barely poke and prod my way out to the garden. You never knew what you might touch. You had to be delicate. Wet things, slimy things, painful things, embarrassing things, rude things, whatever the case might be. You had to be careful.

Weeding the garden was pretty easy, actually. But don't tell my Aunt or Uncle that. They'll just add more work. And the last thing I need is more work. I already do the laundry, weed, clean, mop, dust, and probably about twenty other different things that Aunt Petunia might assign to me on a whim. You'd think these jobs would be pretty difficulty for someone not so able, right? Well, they aren't that bad. Like I said, I'm not trying to complain. That only gives you more work.

And the last thing I need is more work.

Picking and pulling the veiny appendages that were weeds certainly did a number on your hands, I've come to find out. At least, these weeds. I didn't know the difference between Aunt Petunia's flowers and the weeds the first few times. They didn't go well.

But I learned. Now, I know the difference.

I finished up and walked back in slowly.

Uncle Vernon's meaty voice greeted me harshly. "Done already, boy? Go see if Aunt Petunia needs anything."

I guess I wasn't quick enough in my departure, because in that next critical second, he barked at an even louder volume. "Boy! Now!"

I went. I knew my way around the house well enough so as to not break a picture frame or stub my toe. That was good enough. But not at this speed. I felt like a drag racer. Haphazardly leaving so I wouldn't upset Uncle Vernon anymore, I ran into Aunt Petunia in the hallway, to her disappointment.

"Oof!" A collective burst of air came out of both of us. I couldn't have been going _that _fast.

"Boy, don't run around the house. Do you want to break something?"

I didn't try to get a word in anymore. A couple years ago, sure. But I learned.

"So, since you _don't _want to break anything, why don't you go make sure it's all nice and clean? Those things seem to go hand-in-hand, right?" Her falsely sweet voice appraised me. "Yes, Aunt Petunia." I intoned quietly and went to the little storage closet. It also doubled as a wonderful place to sleep, but don't tell anyone that. As such, I knew where things where. Probably better than anyone else in the house, to be honest. Losing a sense makes you much more compelled and resourceful. You make up for it in more ways than one.

I expertly dusted the various knick-knacks and trinkets Aunt Petunia owned. I was never to touch them otherwise. They aren't meant for useless blind boys. The walls are. If I wanted to feel things, I could go feel my bed for the next 3 days. Oh yes, I don't remember much, but I remember that. Yes, I remember that.

Settling into the routine was the hardest part. Do this, do that, do this again because the first time wasn't good enough. If you knew just how many things your hands could do, you'd be shocked. Shocked and a little disgusted. But I do them.

It feeds me and it gives me a place to sleep. So I do them. Besides, kids do chores, right? This isn't any different.

The only thing that's different is me. Me and my disgraceful incompetency and shameful disability. I was lucky to be given a home. Not everyone like me is so privileged. That's what they tell me. That people like me don't make it in other countries. That we get snuffed out. That I should be grateful to them. I believe them.

I asked someone, once. They gasped and asked me a few questions, and then they called someone. Calling someone is really what did it. I guess Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon _really _didn't like that. So, I was told to stop asking questions and to stay in my closet for a week.

And I did, like a faithful nephew. And I learned.

Keep my head down. Don't ask questions. Asking questions makes a fool of myself. That means I embarrass Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. I can't do that. So that's added to the list of things I can't do, like breathe or live too loudly.

Luckily, I have a _great _sense of hearing, so naturally I'll be able to draw the line.

How nice of me, right?

The everyday routine changed.

I stumbled into the living room blindly to be stopped by my caring legal guardians.

"Boy, what do you know of this?"

A brief flutter of something was all I heard.

I frowned in consternation. "Uncle Vernon, can you please be more specific?" I hoped. Oh, I hoped it wouldn't. God, please.

"There was a letter that we received this morning," Aunt Petunia began mildly. "It was a letter from a place I heard about in my childhood. The same people that took your alcoholic mother want to take you. How does that make you feel, boy?"

A mixture of emotions swam through me. "I don't know, Aunt Petunia. Is that bad? What's so bad about a letter? It's just mail."

You could have heard a pin drop. The television and the fan were switched off immediately. Silence pervaded the space. Silence. Time dragged by. The minutes wore on. Really, what _was _so bad? It was just a letter! Besides, I'm not my mother. I'm me. Boy.

"It's not _just mail._ Listen, boy."

Uncle Vernon took deep, heavy steps towards me and whispered in my ear. "Here at Hogwarts, we have sent you this letter to congratulate you on the fact that your nephew is accepted into our gracious institution of schooling and learning! On the first of September, we expect him to be adequately prepared for one of our members to come and receive him. Best wishes, Hogwarts."

He leaned down even further. "I can tell you right now, from what Aunt Petunia has told me, that Hogwarts is not a good place. Do you understand? It made your mother into the terrible person she was. She's the reason you're the way you are! Always drinking and passing out on our couch! We told her it wasn't good for the baby! But no, she didn't listen. And here we are, bound to go through it all over again."

Anxiety flooded my system. I couldn't breathe. "Uncle Vernon, please don't make me go. I'll do whatever you want. I'll even cook! I'll make sure you never have to worry about anything around the house! Please don't make me go! I don't want to! Aunt Petunia, do something, please."

She sighed. "Boy, we won't make you go. We wouldn't let you even if you wanted to. Not after what it did to your mother. The people she chose, the men she chose, the things she did, all bad, boy. Not a single thing she did was ever good. She was beautiful as a child, but not after that. They took her when she turned 11. Now, because you're 11, they want you."

My breath picked up at a rapid rate. I could barely hear her anymore. What was happening? Would I be okay? Would they try to take me anyway? Oh, no. No, no, no, no!

"What's going to happen?"

"Well, I'll tell you." Uncle Vernon got situated before resting a hand on my shoulder. "We're gonna burn the letter and forget all about it. When the First rolls around, you won't even know it. Maybe we'll get a visit, maybe we won't. Who knows? If we do, you'll be alright. Me and your Aunt _will __not _let them take you to Hogwarts. Okay?"

I sucked in some air and tried to steady my breathing. "Okay, Uncle Vernon."

"Repeat after me: My Aunt and Uncle..."

"My Aunt and Uncle..."

"will _not_..."

"will _not..." _

"let me be taken to Hogwarts."

"let me be taken to Hogwarts."


	2. Senseless

The First was approaching rapidly, despite Uncle Vernon's words. The weeks leading up to it were excruciating. It wasn't the work. It was never about the work. It was the First. The anticipation is tearing me apart. Well, I suppose anticipation isn't a good word. More like fear or dread. I fearfully dread the anticipation that will wrack my nerves. Sure, that sounds a little better. We can work with that.

Apart from that fateful day with the Hogwarts letter, nothing changed. There was no coincidental mistake or flummox that happens in order to set things into motion. The letter burned, and that was that.

Of course, I knew it wouldn't be. Things like that came back to you. They crawled back with a menacing grin to really screw up your life.

Things wouldn't be so hunky-dory much longer. I was terrified I'd be ripped away from my Aunt and Uncle. I still am. There's no shame in admitting it scares me. Who would I admit it to? Them? That's pathetic. It's pathetic and embarrassing. And you don't embarrass the Dursley's. No, no you don't. Or you'd be in for a world of hurt. Justified hurt, of course. It's only fair. You hurt their name, they hurt you.

In the days before the turn of the month, Uncle Vernon sounded more and more finicky and uncertain. Aunt Petunia followed suit with his example, using an occasional stutter and tripping over things. If it wasn't words, it was objects.

When it finally rolled around, we got a visitor. It wasn't surprising, by the way the letter was written.

"Dear Boy, this is to inform you that we're sending some member of our glorious infallible learning academy to your house so we can pick you up. Please be ready to be received, Hogwarts."

It went something like that, you know?

And here we were.

Three knocks on our stately front door. Three knocks for Uncle Vernon to stammer and Aunt Petunia to stop dead in the middle of her once-a-blue-moon cleaning.

I couldn't believe it. My Aunt and Uncle said they would deal with it! They would deal with it and I wouldn't have to worry about it. Well, that obviously wasn't the case.

The door was opened, whether or not it was answered or just used was not information I was privy to. It's not like I could see our visitor in. Haha!

"Good mornin'," A deep voice greeted. Probably the deepest I've heard yet.

"Y-yes, how are you?" Uncle Vernon replied quietly, completely unlike my Uncle. Even when he was polite and endearing to our usual guests, he was never like this. It was a 180. An entire turnaround.

"I'm the Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. My name is-" He was suddenly interrupted by my Uncle.

"That's great," Uncle Vernon said positively. Did he know he'd cut in? "Unfortunately, we've never heard of Hogwarts, or at least, I haven't. What is it?" He sounded interested.

"Hogwarts is a place to hone your child's magic. Whether they be Witch or Wizard, we got a place fer 'em in our gizzard!" The Groundskeeper attempted to sing. "Wait, I don't think that's how it goes. I also take care of owls, you know. Comes with the job."

"I see." Uncle Vernon said pointedly.

"Well, ah, I've come to collect your son. No, no, nephew? Nephew. I've come to collect your nephew. If you had successfully gotten our letter, it would'a told you this in detail." The deep-voiced Groundskeeper lamented sadly.

"That is a terrible tragedy, this situation," Aunt Petunia pouted. "If we had some way to know who you were, we would probably let you take our nephew. But seeing as-"

"Oh! Well, ya see, I do have a solution to this little predicament. Everyone who pays a visit ter a Hogwart's receiving household, they are instructed ter perform a show, of sorts. So the parents can believe them, ya see." Deep-voice summed up. A show?

"Here, let me show ya!" He chuckled enthusiastically. There was a shuffling of something that kind of rattled. "_Lumos!" _He said. I felt power in that word, whatever it meant.

I felt heat on my face, like I was sitting in a meadow on a nice day with no clouds in the sky.

And then it stopped. "_Nox." _

"You think some sort of fancy light or some shitty firework will let you take our boy?" Uncle Vernon asked. Go, Uncle Vernon! I knew he had it in him.

The Groundskeeper sighed. I guess he came up to me, because nobody else in the house had _that _much of a heavy footstep, not even Uncle. He came up to me and he said, "Would you like to come to Hogwarts?" He questioned softly. Almost like a father to his child.

"I-Mister, I don't know if I can, sir. I'm different than other people," I informed him, as if maybe it wasn't that evident. Was he different, himself?

"That's alright. Hogwarts accepts all manner o' children. We can certainly take you, too, Harry."

"Harry?" Aunt Petunia stuttered.

"Harry? Who's Harry?" I asked. "Did you call me that? That isn't my name."

"Hm," The Groundskeeper thought to himself. "If Harry Potter doesn't live here with his Aunt and Uncle, then I must'a got it mixed up. You must be a different one. What is your name? You might still be on our roster, young man."

"That isn't necessary," Uncle Vernon rebuked.

"I think it is." The Hogwarts Groundskeeper insisted. "What is your name, child?"

I felt frustrated. Wasn't it obvious? If they knew our address and my mother, surely they'd know my name. I guess this 'Hogwarts' wasn't as prestigious a place as we thought.

"My name is Boy," I said sternly. "You should know my name."

"Your name is... Boy?" He said after a pause. "Yes. I know my name, sir."

I looked down towards the floor. Even if I was blind, it helped the image. I didn't want to look arrogant with this change of pace. Arrogance brought embarrassment. You don't embarrass the Dursley's.

"Alright then...Boy. Well, this is definitely interestin'. You know what? Let me check. I do believe I brought wit' me a list of the children I gotta pick up. I think I remember a Boy on it."

A snapping of something papery informed me that maybe perhaps the Groundskeeper did in-fact keep a roster on his person. How very interesting.

Seconds passed while he scanned his list. What if he was right? What if there was my name on that paper? What if they took me? Aunt and Uncle are both quiet now. Why aren't they saying anything? Why aren't they helping me?!

"Oh yes, I do have your name here, right after _Harry Potter._ I knew it sounded familiar." His voice carried some sort of inflection. I didn't like it. Who was this man?

"Do I have to go?" I asked him.

"No. No, he doesn't. Isn't that right, sir?" Aunt Petunia said.

"Yes, ma'am. Boy does not have ter go if he doesn't want to. But, we do encourage a tour fer those second-guessers."

"How about our tour?" He offered kindly.

I hesitated. It was hard. On one hand, it was only a tour. And then he'd be gone forever. Him and Hogwarts. I wouldn't have to worry about... what? Magic? Learning how to be magician? Besides, I didn't want to do that sort of thing. Aunt Petunia always tells me to do something I love, and that I'll never work a day in my life if I do. Well, I don't think Hogwarts is for me.

"It's only one day. They can come get you at the train station we use. How does that sound, buddy?"

"I-I guess. If it's only one day." I gave in. "Is...that okay, Uncle Vernon?"

"Sure thing, Boy. Go on their little tour. It won't be anything fancy, I assure you. Sure, go ahead. We'll be there to get you, don't worry."

The Groundskeeper seemed to put something away after that. It sounded heavier than a paper. Maybe it was the thing he used for the light-show? I wasn't sure. But he got down on a knee and turned to me.

"You'll have a wonderful time, Boy."

He got up and addressed my Aunt and Uncle. "If you had gotten that letter, it would'a said ta prepare fer the First. Anyway, Boy, go get some clothes and maybe a snack or two. We have a long ride ahead of us."

And so I did. How long would the ride be, I wondered. Hopefully not too long. I was a little impatient when it came to those sort of things. Other things, I was as patient as the day is long. But no, not for rides.

I gathered some of the less hole-filled clothing I had and returned to the living room, taking my time with the steps I took.

"Ya all ready ta go?" He asked me cheerfully.

I gulped in response. "Yes, sir,"

My Aunt and Uncle did nothing and stood there.

I wanted to plead. I wanted to cry. But I didn't. Because pleading and crying embarrasses the Dursley's. It hurts their name. And I learned not to plead and cry. Everything was fine. I wasn't a sissy. This would all work out.

The Groundskeeper and I left shortly after the encounter. It was funny, the way things turned out. Uncle Vernon said I wouldn't go, but I went. It was ironic. Funny and ironic.

It turns out that before we actually went to the school that the man, who I now learned was named Hagrid, had had to take me to a place called Diagon Alley to get me things. Things which, if I had read the letter that he had given me, I would've known to had and prepare with. But because it was misplaced or lost in the mail, we didn't have such an opportunity. It seemed the other children Hagrid had to pick up today were going to have to wait. "Thank you, sir," I honestly thanked him. "For helping me, I mean. With all this."

Hagrid laughed and helped me step through the brick wall (he told me explicitly about the wall because I'd need it for future trips, and to ask for Tom behind the bar). Hagrid was nice. Pleasant. Misery loves company, I suppose. I wasn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows, but that was to be expected.

The two of us walked down the cobblestone road and he pointed out the nearby stores and shops to me. Hagrid was a wonderful 'seeing-eye dog', as he put it. I had no idea there existed such a thing. I likely hadn't heard of it because of our quaint status in the world. Uncle Vernon did what he could to bring food to the table but it was rough. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to eat. I knew times could be harsh. Other days, I'd need to ration out bread. My Aunt and Uncle saved the bigger portions for themselves because they needed it more. Once you're big and grown, you need more sustenance. When you're a young man like me, you don't need that much.

Dudley was a different case. He was mean sometimes but we got along. He joined a local weightlifting club and began to ask for more portions at the dinner table in the evenings. That was more than okay. To lift big you had to eat big. If I asked for more, that was _not _okay. What did I do? I cleaned, dusted, did my chores, yeah. But nothing on Dudley's or Uncle Vernon's level. Uncle Vernon is on his feet 8-12 hours a day. He needed his food.

Hagrid and I passed a pet shop. I didn't really listen to the name of it, but it sounded endearing. I wanted to go in and look at the various animals. He let me. "Before ya choose from what they have, remember, the majority o' Hogwarts students can only pick from cats, owls, an' toads. There are others, it's mainly a guideline, but things like that. Most people go fer owls because they can fly an' take mail for ya', but you do you."

Hmm. That was interesting. "Can we look at their rats? Do they have rats?"

Hagrid sounded surprised. "Why, o' course."

We did partake in our fair share of rats. The clerk started to ask me not to poke the glass, but after really focusing midway through, she stopped. I'm sure she felt guilty. It happens. "Don't worry," I assuaged her. "I get it all the time. Do you have any recommended rats?"

I'm guessing behind the shop girl there was another set of footsteps, a little lighter. There was a pep to these steps. Someone was excited or nervous. I knew footsteps.

"Oh Merlin!" She cried. "Does he have it? Is that him?"

The first girl replied with a whisper.

They broke out into giggles.

Were they talking about me? What did I have? Was something wrong?

"Hagrid, is there someone else here?"

His hand came down to my back to guide me somewhere. "Yes," He replied. "Someone very important. We better not bother them. Come on, I know another pet place just down the road. Young men like you need their exercise. Gotta get in shape, ya know?"

Hagrid led me out of the very important pet place. On the way he said something about a Flory Fortescu or something. Florian? Whatever. I knew it was an ice cream parlour. "Wow!" I exclaimed. "Can we stop?"

Hagrid sighed heavily. "I wanted to go to the first pet shop and then to the bank. I'm terribly sorry, Ha-" He stuttered and seemed to catch himself on something.

"Boy, but I do have other kids I gotta get. We'll get ya yer toad and then some money for yer tour. You can come back another day. How's that?"

"That's alright, Hagrid. I'm sorry I forgot you were on a schedule."

"Oh, don't worry about it. I know the whole thing is overwhelmin', but I went through it too. You'll get to come back here a lot if you stay at Hogwarts."

I had to admit, after the trip to Diagon Alley, staying at Hogwarts sounded nice. But what about Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon? What if they needed help?

"Say, Hagrid, what if I did stay? And if my Aunt and Uncle needed help? Around the house?"

He laughed merrily. "I was in that little predicerment myself growin' up. They managed alright without me. Your family will be just fine. Maybe they could do a little better with ya, but they got this far. Okay, we're coming up to the bank. It's called Gringotts. You'll have to remember that."

We walked in through two double glass doors with Hagrid helping me watch my step. I bumped into someone and they... growled at me? But he got me back on track.

We approached the teller desk. "Name and vault?" An old-sounding man asked.

"Er...H-0089." Hagrid answered quickly.

"Key?"

Metal was able to be heard fished out of a pocket and into a hand before the teller left his desk for a moment.

Another set of feet came up to greet us.

"Follow me."

"Do you know why that vault is so different from other ones?" Hagrid questioned.

"No, what's the difference?" I countered as we went down a long hallway.

"The H in it stands for Hogwarts, and the four numbers, zero zero eight nine, stand for you. Because you are student number 0089 of Hogwarts." Hagrid said cheerfully.

"There's a set amount for you. Your father set it up for you when he was younger, a few years ago. You'll have enough ter do things you want_ and _get the things ya need. Win-win!"

"I haven't heard much about my father, Hagrid. Can you tell me some stories about him?"

"Get in, and hold on." The man in front of us instructed. We got into some sort of thing on wheels or something mobile, and things got fast. Something was roaring in my ears. Wind, I'm assuming.

"He won a trophy and was leader of the Hogwarts Quidditch team for three years. He also got really good grades. I remember this one time, him and his buddies were messin' around with spells in Third Year, and one o' them somehow managed ter mix up his thumb and his pinkie. It was pretty funny. Staff aren't supposed ter laugh at those things, 'cause it can be dangerous, but the boy seemed alright."

"Wow! Can we learn things like that too?"

The wind got to be too much to carry on the conversation. I heard him say something back, but not what he actually said. The words didn't carry. My loss, I guess.

We soon arrived at my vault and he got out a bit of money for me. He had to hold it for me for now, to make a few necessary purchases, but it was mine.

Hagrid and I left Gringotts and went to the other pet shop to get a rat. He seemed a little confused on why I wanted the rat, but I wanted the rat, and that was that.

We eventually did get one, and it was brown, so I called it Brownie. Nice and simple, right? It came with a small cage and a bit of food. A nice setup. After we got Brownie, we also had to go get books to start off the tour and a trunk to hold all of these things. It didn't seem all that bad.

"When ya get to Hogwarts, you're gonna hear all these kids talkin' about Houses. Now, in Hogwarts, there are four Houses you can be put in, which is called Sorting. You are Sorted into different Houses based on what you're good at, understand? There's four. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Gryffindors are known to be brave and full o' courage. Good people to have.

Slytherins are smart and cunning. They like ter sneak around and be stealthy. Also good ta have.

Ravenclaws are known fer their book smarts, but don't get 'em mixed up fer Slytherin smarts. Very different. Some will even get insulted if ya mix 'em up.

Lastly, Hufflepuff."

We stopped somewhere along the road and he told me to hold onto his arm. "You'll learn about this later, but it's called Apparition. We use it ta teleport easily from place to place. Be careful and hold your breath. Before you know it, it'll be over."

We stood for a second before I felt like my insides were getting pulled through a straw, but I managed to pull through.

We landed on the ground a little unbalanced.

"Anyway, Hufflepuff. Hufflepuffs are loyal and kind. Pleasant people to know."

"Here, we're going to go through this wall here. Run fast and don't stop. You'll go through."

"Straight ahead?"

"Straight ahead." Hagrid affirmed.

I sprinted forward with all my might.

A feeling of flying or being lost in water without the water overcame me for a split second. It felt nice. And then it was over. Quite like Apparition, I guess. He came through and made sure I was alright.

"Normally I'd just Apparate us into the Station, but you need to know that way, too. We're called Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Don't forget."

"Okay, I won't." I promised.

A thought occurred to me. "Were you a Hufflepuff, Hagrid? You're nice."

He chuckled. "Yeah, something like that."

Before we got too close, I heard it. A giant train whistle went through the Station, echoing. A burst of steam followed suit. My heart jumped into my throat. This would be fun.

"Now, before ya get on, some kids might confuse ya fer Harry Potter. That's what happened in the pet store. Remember? The girls was gigglin'.

"Oh!" I gasped. It made sense now.

"So if they call you Harry or ask ta see a famous scar, just go with it. It's what Harry's known fer." He warned me.

"Thank you, Hagrid."

"No problem, here, I'll walk you on. Look for an empty compartment and be careful with your trunk. I'll see ya at Hogwarts, 'Harry'!" He laughed. I knew it was a ruse, the Harry thing. Definitely not a mistake. I'd like to think I knew Hagrid better than that.

"See you there!"

I rushed on the train and went slowly down, feeling for knobs or something that moved. I eventually felt that the entire compartment moved to open up, like a full wall. It was weird. Even weirder to try and explain.

"Excuse me, is there an empty seat?"

"No."

And the encounters went on and on.

"Nope."

"Sorry. Hey, are you Harry Potter? Wait, we have a-" Slam.

Until, finally...

"Hello, do you have a spare seat?"

"Yeah, come on in."

I happily did, holding my trunk and cage eagerly before setting it down next to me.

"Please excuse me if I seem a little weird, I'm blind." I told my new seating partner.

"Oh, no, no, no problem at all. You should see my brothers. They're practically blind with all the non-listening they do. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Harry."

We shook hands. It was an awkward fumbling for a second or two, but Ron was like Hagrid. Full of tales to tell and time to burn. I liked Ron. Ron was like a mini-Hagrid. We swapped stories, more him than me, as I tried to soak it all in and learn more about magic.

"What House do you think you'll be in?" I wondered.

"Gryffindor, for sure!" He responded triumphantly. "All of my brothers, heck, my family were in it. I _know _I'm gonna be! What about you, Harry?"

I thought hard. "Hmm," I speculated to myself. "I wanna say Hufflepuff, but maybe Gryffindor. I met a Hufflepuff today. He was nice."

"Oh, so you don't think Gryffindors are nice, too?" Ron exploded suddenly. "Merlin, you guys are all-"

I shrunk back, having never seen this side of Ron before. It was enlightening.

He stopped. "I'm just joking with ya." We laughed it over.

The compartment door slid open again. "Er, excuse me, is this compartment free? I need a seat and the others I checked were full." A female voice asked.

"Yeah, come on in. The more, the merrier!" Ron said enthusiastically.

"Great."

She got settled in and introduced her. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ron Weasley."

"Harry."

"Ooh, Harry? Like Harry Potter?" She gushed.

"No, no," I quelled. "We have the same name. I guess I was named after him. I haven't heard much about him. What's he like?" I needed information. If people thought I was Harry, I had to act as Harry. Be the persona. Be Harry.

"From what I've read, he's so brave and-and marvelous! He can slay dragons in his sleep and take harems of witches!"

"I thought that was all rubbish," Ron butted in.

Hermione bit back. "Well, what do you know about Harry Potter?"

Ron adopted a more serious tone. "Well, for one, I know Harry Potter once flew fifty miles in forty-five seconds. I _also _know that he takes down Basilisks easily. Easily."

Hermione sighed and attempted to correct him. "No, no, no, Harry Potter..." I tuned them out.

It seemed I had a lot to live up to, this Harry Potter thing. I focused on my rat, Brownie. He didn't bite or anything, which is nice. I tried to get him to eat some oats or some bites or any of the food the store supplied, but he wasn't taking it.

"-rry,"

I blinked, even though it did nothing.

"Harry."

I sat up and looked toward the sound. Ron? What did he want?

"I have a rat too!" He stated happily. "You're the only other bloke I met this morning with a rat. Isn't that something? You know those pet store foods suck for rats. Especially magical ones. Here, try a carrot. Scabbers loves carrots!"

He handed me one, and I deposited it softly into the cage. Brownie instantly started to chew on the end of it, confirming Ron's statement.

I guess their argument was over. I hoped so, at least. I did not want the entire ride to be about Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived who's superhuman and invincible and whatever other crap. Can we have a normal conversation?

The door slid open once again. I was beginning to get annoyed.

"Is there a Harry Potter here?" A male asked.

I answered. "There is a Harry, but not a Harry Potter." I was getting irked. Potter this, Potter that.

"Are you sure?" Oh, God, the insolence.

"Yes, we're sure." Ron stood in for me.

The male stepped in. "What is this, a Weasley? Talking back to a Malfoy? His better? Brush up on your etiquette, Weasley, and know your place. I'll duel you should you address me with such rudeness another time. Good day, Harry."

Ron punched the seat opposite us in a burst of anger. I tried to get the situation back under control. "Just lock the compartment." I sighed.

Hermione got up and tried. "I don't think it does, Harry." She said, sounding disappointed.

"Oh, well. If someone else comes in, we'll deal with them. Anyway, what House do you think you'll be in, Hermione?" I asked.

She started to answer, but the train began to slow down. We got jolted, and then the speed started to slowly drop.

"You know, you should've put your things in the back," She berated me softly. "Nobody told me, Hermione. I need someone to tell me these sort of things. I'm not the best on my own."

"Yeah," Ron backed me up. "'Cuz, ya know, he's blind." I really liked Ron.

Hermione turned a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry, Harry." She apologized.

"Yeah, sure."

Before we actually departed, I made sure to quickly and quietly take my stuff to the back. "What are you doing, kid?" A snobby voice accosted me. I fled the scene.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here! Firs' Years! Firs' Years over here..." A deep voice called. It sounded familiar. Wait, that was Hagrid!

This was a great day so far.

I caught up to Ron and Hermione and we made our way over to the Groundskeeper.

"Everyone follow me!" He commanded.

A flurry of steps surrounded me and I felt a little closed in and began to get anxious.

"Are you guys still here?" I asked.

"Guys?"

"Yeah, Harry." Ron replied. He sounded far-away, like he was invested in something. Was he listening? Where was Hermione?

"Give me your hands, please. Or your arms, or something. I don't wanna lose you guys."

"You won't. We're right here, Harry." Hermione comforted me.

"Up here, all of you. Into the boats! Firs' Years into the boats! Four to a boat, no more, no less!" Hagrid instructed.

We got into a boat with another boy named Neville. He was nice enough, if not quiet or shy. Or maybe just tired. He had a toad. Isn't that cool? Two rats, a toad, and a cat. Wow!

"Look up here an' keep your boats steady. You're all gonna see it, don't push an' shove. Don't wanna fall in the lake, right?"

Seconds came and went. A series of gasps came from the kids in front of us, and then they got closer and closer...

"What? What's happening?" I asked.

Both Ron and Hermione tried to answer at the same time, but Ron got the first word in. "It's a giant castle."

"Oh, God. Be less descriptive, huh?"

My sarcasm was taken literally, it seemed.

"Can one of you _please _tell me what it looks like instead of gawking at it?!"

"There's towers and peaks and lights. Oh, the lights are the best part, Harry. It's beautiful, but the lights..."

"She's right, Harry. It's a great sight to see."

"I'm sure," I replied bitterly. How was I supposed to know what a light looked like? Were they just that great?

After a while we reached the other side and got out. Neville's toad Trevor got the better of him and jumped away successfully to Neville's dismay. "Trevor!" He cried into the night.

"It's alright, Neville," Hermione soothed. "We'll find him later."

"He can't get that far," Ron added.

Ooh, look at our residing therapists.

Hagrid led us up a flight of stairs and was superseded by a woman. "Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Hagrid," She returned. "You may go."

"Good evening," Professor McGonagall greeted professionally. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your classmates. But before you can take your seats, you must be Sorted into your Houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now, while you're here, your House will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you Points. Any rule-breaking and you will lose Points. At the end of the year, the House with the most Points is awarded the House Cup. The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily." She ended her speech and left.

Trevor took this moment to bask in his well-renowned fame and jumped onto the steps in her place.

"Trevor!" Neville shouted and managed to grab his runaway toad. "Sorry," He apologized to a few kids in the nearby vicinity. Ron held back a chuckle. Hermione apparently punched him or elbowed him or something, because it quickly turned into a groan.

We were led into what we were told was the Great Hall.

Names were called as we were lined up and told to wait. "Abbot, Hannah!" Professor McGonagall called out. Hannah stepped out of line and went up to McGonagall. A few minutes later, a grainy voice screamed, "Gryffindor!"

And the list went on.

Ron got Gryffindor, just like he said he would.

Hermione got Ravenclaw, which isn't really surprising. She said she liked to read, after all.

When I was called, I was instructed to put on a special Hat. The Sorting Hat, I think it was called.

_What is this?_

I grew alarmed.

_Whoa, child, calm down.__ I'm here to Sort you_.

_That doesn't mean you should be in my head!_

_Are you telling me how to do my job? I say! Yes, sir, Mister Potter, sir._

I didn't bother answering.

_I see that you're resourceful. You like to make use of what you have. You also like to sort things. That's a Ravenclaw hobby._

_On the other hand, you also tend to stick to things you like, like certain foods. Picky eater, maybe?_

_Sometimes._

_Hufflepuff trait. But you also have spouts of bravery. Tell me, child, since you appear to be redeeming for all four Houses, is there a certain one you'd prefer?_

_Hufflepuff. And before you announce, will this have any bearing to my blindness?_

_You may have some trouble with the Arts, but I see no further problems. Mister Potter, have a long and fruitful __life as a..._

I braced.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"


	3. New House, New Rules

Having officially becoming designated "Hufflepuff" was just the beginning.

Attempting to find my way to my newfound peers was another beginning.

This wouldn't be easy.

Reaching the Hufflepuff table in earnest glee, I sat amongst my new Housemates in ecstacy. One of them was a kid I recognized from the earlier Sortings. He introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Ernie Macmillan."

"I'm Harry."

"Aren't you going to shake my hand?" Ernie asked.

It was a rocky start.

...

When all of the students were finally Sorted into their Houses, another voice, one much older and wise, began to speak to us all. The giant room fell silent.

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I am Professor Albus Dumbledore. Beside me, in order of proximity, are Professors McGonagall and Snape, who teach Transfiguration and Potions; followed by Professors Quirrell and Flitwick, who teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms; On the end to my right and your left is Professor Hagrid. He offers a spectacular Care of Magical Creatures class and one other course that you may choose to take from 3rd Year and beyond. Now, after our introductions. You will attend here for the next seven and potentially eight years. They will be fun and you'll probably look back on it as your best times. That is, if you stay out of trouble. There are a few minor rules I need to make clear before we can begin the Feast. One, and I must without fail address this every year: No Hogwarts students are to enter the Forbidden Forest except under express permission from a Professor.

Two: No dueling or taking matters into your own hands. If you have a problem with another student, deal with them in a reasonable manner. That doesn't mean stun them or hurt them. Try to talk it out. Be mature.

Three: Follow instructions.

Four: The locked door on the 3rd Floor is locked for a reason. Unlock it and enter, and you will find yourself in an unpleasant circumstance.

Five: Prefects are students that are elected to their positions because of good standing and manner. Listen to them. Otherwise, they wouldn't be Prefects. They are to be treated just as any Professor you'd meet. However, that does _not _mean they _are _Professors, for you Prefects out there. But they do deserve respect, as do the other members of Hogwarts and your House.

And finally, Six: Enjoy Hogwarts! Dig in, everyone."

A magnificent clutter and banging assaulted my ears before I realised that the Feast had begun, evidently with some sort of magic. Did the food miraculously appear? Was it Apparated from somewhere?

I felt around and managed to grab a few things. I didn't bother asking what they were or what their names were, rathering feeling a little quiet for the time being. It was a decision I found myself regretting, as some of it tasted quite good. I hope there's food like this everyday. I'd never want to leave.

After the Welcoming Feast, the House Heads rounded us up and took us back to our collective dormitories. Would dormitories be the right word? Each House had its' own little sleeping quarters. For example, Gryffindor had a tower. Slytherin had the dungeons. Was there some symbolism in that?

I wish I had had some time to talk to Ron or Hermione after our Sorting, but unfortunately the Professors had no leniency for chit-chat.

I'd just have to find them later on, or even tomorrow. For now, it was time to focus on my own House and get in good.

Professor Flitwick was our Head of House. I'm told he's small and stout, and has some sort of Goblin ancestry. Makes for a great image, at least from what Goblins sound like. Nevertheless, he is wonderful.

"Welcome to Hufflepuff," He announced broadly as we situated ourselves inside the now cramped Common Room. "I am Professor Filius Flitwick. I am your Head of House here in Hufflepuff. As Professor McGonagall told you, your House will be your family. In Hufflepuff, even more so. We're known for being loyal and steadfast. Especially when people need us. You have a lot to live up to, all of you. But I believe that you can meet my expectations. First Years usually do. Along the course of the year, you will learn _some _magic and spellwork. Not that much and not too complicated, because it's your first year, but most of your spells will be handy Charms. For example, the Light Charm. _L__umos!" _

Some Hufflepuffs gasped. "Some of you may already be familiar with this spell. There are variants of it as well, but we will familiarize ourselves with the common one. For now, at least. _Nox. _I hope all of you have your items about you, and if you don't, _please come see me._ We can't afford any of you falling behind because of poor management. If we can help you, we will help you. If you find yourself struggling, don't be afraid to ask for help. If not from me or some other Professor, than from another student. Especially a Hufflepuff. Study tonight and make friends. You'll need both. Have a good evening." Professor Flitwick ended abruptly and left, stepping off of his... podium?

Ernie wasted no time. He raced up to me with a vigor so apparent his pace blew wind at me. "Hey, Harry," He greeted loudly. Yeah, it's probably pretty hard to control your breathing when you move like that. I'm not a daredevil or suicidal. Don't ask me.

"Hey, Ernie," I shot back albeit at a lesser volume. "Did you talk to anyone else?" I asked curiously. Professor Flitwick's words had merit;

It was better to socialize now before the middle or end of the year. Heck, we didn't even go to class or have work yet! I already knew everyone would be up tonight, restless. It was the perfect time to sink your teeth in.

The handful of Prefects in Hufflepuff lined us up and handed out our schedules. The one who gave me mine was shy. "Here," He said absentmindedly. And then it clicked. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

I ignored him.

"Ernie." I called. Why did that happen in life? When you weren't looking for something, it's always there, annoyingly so sometimes. When you were, it was gone. Always. It baffled me.

"Ernie!" I tried again.

"Excuse me?" A petite voice asked. I couldn't place what it was. Male, female. Some kids just had that kind of genderless voice. What happens to a person for that to happen? It bugged me.

"Yes?"

"Are you the...troubled boy? The one that's named Harry after Harry Potter but not actually Harry?" I scowled. Who says that?

I voiced my thoughts bitterly. "Who says that? Why not just say Harry?"

She _eep'd_. I-I'm sorry?

"I'm sorry, uh, Harry. I didn't know what to say."

"Um, 'hello'?"

I sighed. Ernie was gone. Looks like I'm stuck with whoever this is. "Come on. I think I'm in the middle of the room and I'd rather go somewhere where someone doesn't bump into me. Believe me, it happens."

"Yeah... So, hello."

How do you screw up this bad with a conversation? Maybe I was being too cynical. Alright. Take two. Action!

"Hello. What's your name?"

"Hannah. Hannah Abbott."

"Hi, I'm Harry. I'm also blind. You might have to help me out sometimes. I'm telling you now so you don't ask later."

"Oh. I'm fine with that. My grandma needs help all the ti-"

"Ernie!" I hoped he was there.

"Harry! Where did you go?" He was. Score one, Harry.

"I was waiting for you. You're the one that wandered off." I accused gruffly.

"I did not 'wander off'. Who's this?"

"Don't worry about it."

It was too late.

"Hi. I'm Hannah. Hannah Abbott." And it began.

"Ernie Macmillan. Do you know any spells yet?"

I'm not very interested in this anymore. Granted, I wasn't much in the first place. But beggars can't be choosers. I let them do their thing and went up to the bedrooms to see Brownie.

I set his cage up right next to my bed. It was a tight fit but it worked. I just couldn't forget that he was on the right side. Ernie and Hannah became chums while I comforted Brownie. He came up to me earlier. Now he's just sitting in his cage, vehemently refusing to. Too much noise, maybe? It gives me unease too. "Don't worry, Brownie. They scare me too."

The other boys around us in the dormitory were still chattering excitedly about the day to come. I laid down on my bed and closed my eyes. Black. Always black. It never changed. I always fell asleep and tried to wake up and see color or something move or _anything. _But no. Never.

Drifting off to sleep was certainly an adjustment. I was so used to sleeping alone and with no sound. Here, there's always a buzz. People moving or turning bed, snoring, coughing, getting up, laying down. It doesn't end.

I didn't want to draw the curtains either, what little good they'd do me. They'd just make me trip in the morning. Oh, well. Soon enough the fog of unconscious swept over me generously.

The first night was when all of it began. The dreams.

I stood in an unending room or place. No matter how far I walked or even ran, it didn't stop. When I got tired of running in one direction, I ran in another. When that didn't work, I stopped and took a break.

After I caught my breath and was just about ready to try again, the faintest sound grazed my left ear. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Footsteps.

Far off ones.

I had to go see them.

I got up and walked to the general area of the sound. "Is this what it's like in your head, Harry Potter? Is this how you view the world?"

I was flummoxed. "I...I guess so, yes. Is it that surprising? Some of the Hufflepuffs wondered what was wrong with my eyes today. So many people assume that if you're blind, you only see black."

They laughed a short laugh. "Are you saying that blind people see things?"

"No, that's ridiculous. Well, no, it actually isn't. Blind people that saw earlier in life will see in dreams. They'll lose it over time. Pictures, color, whatever the case may be. People born blind have utterly no idea about anything. We hear. That's how we see. The only reason I can tell you this right now is because I asked a kind stranger at my nearby library to help me."

"Do you think you'd be better off deaf, Harry Potter?"

"No, I- Stop calling me that. I'm not Harry Potter. People think I am. Anyway, if you were deaf, you'd see, but you couldn't hear. I like my hearing."

"More than your vision, Harry Potter?"

"I am not Harry Potter!"

"What makes you think you aren't? You have his scar. His eye color, if a bit weird. His hair color."

"I could tell you that a theoretical five thousand people in Britain have blonde hair and green eyes. That maybe three of those five thousand have birthmarks in the same place. Does that make them the same person? I've always heard what people tell me. I don't know what I look like. I know my name. I know who I am. I don't need people who don't know me to tell me who I am."

"What if there was a way to prove to you that things aren't what you think they are?"

"I'd think you're lying. I can only hear what they are, whatever your 'ways' might be. So how would I know if you didn't fake them?"

"You'd need faith and trust."

"In who?"

"In time, Harry Potter."

Ugh. Riddles.

"Stop calling me that!"

This voice was starting to grate at my ears. I didn't like it.

"What if I cured your blindness, Harry Potter? No, I won't lie to you. There isn't a way to cure such things. Treatments, yes. Extended periods of time and appointments in order to renew the treatment. Would you believe me?"

"Why? Why would you do that? What makes my problem so important to you? What makes my problem your problem?"

"You."

Okay, I was getting sick of this. Fast.

"Fine. Treat my blindness. You won't. You can't. I can tell you that right now." It hadn't changed for 11 years. It wouldn't now.

The man swished his wand. My head hurt. I screamed and fell down.

I couldn't get ahold of anything. The floor was too slippery. I couldn't get a grip. I just kept falling.

Loss of balance is one of the scariest things to happen to a blind person. Disorientation is another.

At that moment, I was experiencing both.

And then, something new.

Below me, there was something else. Something I was able to perceive. Something not black.

I tried to fall towards it. I tried to orient my body's flight closer to whatever this object was.

It only got even further away. What?

And then I woke up.

...

The first official day of Hogwarts was now upon me. I hope I don't have to talk to Hagrid. I'd like to stay. Really, I do. I'm sure Hagrid would understand. My Aunt and Uncle won't be happy but I want to do something for myself. For me.

I fed Brownie and changed out of my pajamas before heading down to the Common Room. Slowly. I still had to get into the swing of things.

"Oh, good morning, Harry!"

Hannah Abbott was getting in the way of my getting into the swing of things.

"We're really gonna have to do something about that 'Good morning' crap." I advised her.

"Can you take me down to the Great Hall?"

No answer. I swallowed my pride. "Please."

"Sure!"

I raised an eyebrow. How did Ernie get to know her? She's way different than yesterday night.

I took her hand after a second of searching.

She wrenched it out of my grasp before spluttering and giving it back. "Jesus, Hannah. I'm not your boyfriend. I just want my breakfast. If I could use magic for this, I would, believe me."

I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually, it was yesterday. Ha!

It was right after the bank trip. Uh, I think it was called Grin Gotts. Not important. Whatever. Before Hagrid Apparated us, he took me to a wand-maker. He was a kind old man named Ollivander. It was an interesting name. The wand I ended up with was a nine-inch Holly wand.

"_Why Holly?" _I had asked the old man.

_"Wands react to your date of birth. When were you born, son?" _

"_July 31st."_

He looked up at me with a grin. "_There you are! Holly responds to those born from July to August. It's no wonder yours worked. Flick it again. See if it feels right. Sparks or anything coming out isn't enough. You need to feel it."_

_"What if I don't, Mr. Ollivander, sir?"_

_Hagrid coughed dryly beside me._

_"What? You don't feel magic? Nonsense. Everyone feels magic, child. Don't worry, Harry. You will feel it. I'm certain of it. Here, try this. Another Holly, with a Dragon heartstring core. Flick it. Pull it. Do something." _

He handed me the wand from it's case and I swished it in front of me.

_"Ah! More sparks!"_

"_They're dyin' out." _Hagrid pointed out.

"_I didn't feel that one, either. Am I blimd to magic?" I said quietly._

_"No, Harry. You can channel it. I know you can feel it. You just have to believe. Hold on. I'll get more."_

We waited patiently while he cleaned out his storage racks for more Holly wands.

Not the worst wait, honestly. I've had worse.

"_Here. Holly, eight inches, with a Phoenix feather. These are hard. Pick it up. If you feel something from this, we might get somewhere." _I did as requested. When I took it off the counter, warmth spread into my hand. But only my hand. "_My hand is warm." _

_"Warm?" _Ollivander repeated excitedly. "_Warm! What are you doing, child? Do something! I haven't had a Phoenix feather go in months! And before that, two years! Go, go, boy!"_

I snapped my head up at him. "_How do you know my name?" _I cried.

The wand instantly sent out dozens of streamers and long-lasting lights.

...

"What can I do with it? It just shoots out sparks!" I complained indignantly. Hannah walked beside me silently, surely in awe of my magical prowess. Can't blame her. It's not everyday you meet someone who carries a wand with a Phoenix feather core.

"How will that help me learn the way to the Great Hall, Hannah? Should I learn a memory spell? A learning spell? Can students even experiment on their own? I'll tell you what'll happen. 'A, B, C, turn left to go to Great Hall, then turn right'! Yeah, sorry. You're stuck with me. You and Ernie. Don't worry. I'll pay you."

"Really?" Hannah piped up.

"Yep!" I confirmed. "In your own hard work, sweat and tears."

"I hate this."

"Join the club."

Getting to the Great Hall was a circus. No, I don't mean the Great Hall. I mean the simple act of walking to it. Even if we are in the kitchens! Or what? Close to them? Behind them? I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on Hogwarts geography. Sue me. Jesus.

I put my wand away and asked Hannah to take me to Gryffindor's table.

"Ron!" I summoned anxiously. If he wasn't here...

We made plans!

"What's up, Harry?" He asked suddenly. From behind me.

"Ah!" I bursted out. "Don't do that! Where's Hermione? Is she down here yet?"

"Dunno. Didn't look."

"Ron, your low-effort answers really aren't helping. You're worse than Hannah!" I dreaded comparing him to that thing, but it was well worth it. "Hey!" She shrieked. "I got you down here, didn't I?"

"I would've made better time if I _actually _paid someone. Ron, please put some elbow-grease in and be my eyes. I can't deal with Pansy Pigtails all day. Please."

Ron bit into something juicy and small. Small enough that juices leapt into my face. An apple. And that was an obnoxious bite.

"Hey, boys!" Hermione did one of those triple-cheerleader flips into the entrance of the Great Hall and landed smartly before running over to us. "What's up, Ronnie-woo?"

She also punched Hannah.

...Yeah, I guess that last part was a bit much. Still, one can dream, right? That sounded pretty awesome.

Nah, she just walked in like a normal person. "Hey, Harry. Hey, Ron. Who's this?" She greeted sweetly. "A colossal waste of time." I said honestly.

"Shut up!" She shouted directly into my right eardrum. I cringed. Really? I just want to eat!

"Alright, you know what? You guys do that."

I kept waiting for Ernie to show up. Maybe breakfast wasn't his thing. "Is Ernie coming?"

"Why should I answer you? All you do is insult me." Hannah pouted. "Harry, your friend is pouting." Ron plainly stated.

"I'm well aware. How was last night? And more importantly, how's breakfast?"

"Harry, no! I still need to eat!" Hermione protested. I was in the process of taking a couple dozen things and putting them on one of those large dinner plates. A 'couple dozen' seems like an exaggeration but it's really not. These things are like one of those bite-sized muffins you see on TV. Great stuff.

I didn't know if they were all the same thing or not but some felt different. I didn't care. They were mine. Finders, keepers. Losers, weepers. "Got here first. Sorry. There's other tables. See what they have. Nobody's answered my query of 'How's last night?'"

Hermione skulked off in favor of more food. Gryffindors really put it away, I can tell you that much. There was basically nothing left. Someone must hate these little pastry things for there to be so many of them still here.

"Oh! Well, I talked to a lot of girls and made buddies with 'em and we had a great night talking about boys!" Hannah dimly added.

"That's nice, Hannah. Ron? How about you? Ron?"

It happened again. "Right here, Harry." He said. From behind me. "Gah! Stop that crap! I know you enjoy it."

"Well," He ignored me. "To be honest, what's to say? I talked to a few blokes and turned in for the night. Got my stuff in order and came down for a little breakfast."

"'A little breakfast'? Ron, I am blind and _I _can tell your definition of little isn't my definition of little, by what I'm hearing. Is some of that even food? It doesn't sound like it."

Ron stopped chewing for a moment. "How refreshing, Harry. Thanks." And he promply spat it out.

Hermione's voice assaulted me out of nowhere. "I think it's safe to say we all had the same night. Satisfied, Harry? Great. Let's finish and compare lessons."

I took my time finishing, we'll just say that.

"So," I summarized, "Hufflepuff has Transfiguration first with Gryffindor and then Slytherin. Yay! Double session. Not so yay on Slytherin but it's only been one day. Let's just see what happens. Ravenclaw has Charms with Slytherin, then Gryffindor. Potions on Tuesday and Thursday. Let's not worry about the rest of it. You know what that sounds like? A tomorrow problem? Also a you problem, because I can't see."

I felt their glares. It was palpable.

"Onto Transfiguration! C'mon, Ron! See you at lunch, Hermione." I said eagerly. "See you both later." She said, not nearly as eagerly. Wow, tough crowd.

"Alright, great. Byes are all done now." I felt up Hannah's back until I felt her pigtails and pulled them lovingly.

"Giddy'up, horsey! Transfiguration, ho!"


End file.
